I have recently become dependent on Koepplingers Maple Bagel Bread. It’s exactly like heroin except that it contains carbohydrates and does not have to be taken intravenously. It has the same effects as heroin — flushing of the skin, heavy extremities, clouded mental function — but it’s perfectly legal.

For now.

I was at the local market last night trying to get my fix. The stuff is in such high demand that it’s very difficult to come by, but since it is still legal, it’s not like I can buy what I need in the alley behind Abe’s. For about the seventh time in a row, the bread aisle was empty of Maple Bagel Bread. They had plain and they had cinnamon raisin, but resorting to eating cinnamon raisin bagel bread is like an alcoholic resorting to drinking hairspray. Those are the flavors that losers eat and I haven’t quite sunk that far yet. To give you an idea of where my head was at that moment, I gave serious consideration to filling up a couple of shopping carts with ice cream products and leaving them in the produce section hoping that they might melt and cause financial harm to the grocery’s proprietors. That was a stupid idea because it’s not their fault that the bread is so tasty and addictive. I decided that it was the fault of whoever took the last loaf off of the shelf. My goal was now clear. I would have to steal a loaf out of someone’s cart.

The odds of the person who took the last loaf actually still being in the store were pretty astronomical, but I figured because I had such luck in my gambling adventures that it was worth the risk considering the risk was free. I rationalized my decision to do this by telling myself as long as someone has not checked out and paid for said product it is not stealing and therefore there is no crime. Sure, there may be an unwritten shopping code that says you shouldn’t expanding your shopping experience to others’ carts, but it’s also an unwritten rule that people shouldn’t torment the poor lobsters and I see that one violated all the time. The mission was a go.

I milled around the store for nearly forty minutes hoping to find an unwitting mark. It was kind of embarrassing because I had to get close to people’s carts and assess their inventory without looking suspicious. Let me tell you this is no easy task when you come across a cart that is filled to the brim. I had to pretend to drop my car keys in a couple of carts on several occassions. In an unbelieveable stroke of good luck, I ran across a woman and her three small children near the fancy cheese display who had a loaf of Maple Bagel Bread in her cart. I guess shopping with that many small people in tow slows down the shopping process, but her unfortunate bad luck was the break I needed.

I grabbed the loaf out of her basket and started walking to the checkout. I thought I had done a good job, but I felt nervous and panicked. I began to sprint down the spices aisle and accidentally bumped into someone near the syrup causing her to send a half dozen or so bottles from the shelf crashing to the floor. I felt a moment of remorse, but figured the syrup would act as a barrier should the woman with the children actually be chasing me down the aisle. A wave of calm hit me and I realized that there was no way I could check out now without incident, and I wasn’t about to leap the checkout counter and steal a loaf of bread.

My plan had flaws and I was defeated. I figured the right thing to do was return the bread to its rightful owner. I caught up to the woman with the kids and instead of slipping it back into her cart, I felt the need to apologize. I’ve been on this stupid apologizing kick as of late, and against my better judgement, I tapped her on the shoulder and explained my story. She was very understanding to my situation and made me feel better about myself. She helped me realize that I am a good person. Just as I was turning to walk away, she spoke up and said that she had knocked down an elderly woman to get this loaf. I even heard her mutter the word “sucker” under her breath. I had been taken.

Before leaving, I headed over to the bread aisle and grabbed a loaf of the cinnamon raisin. I had indeed reached Kitty Dukakis territory.